Masquerading
by LaLaFilly
Summary: Loki adjusts to living on Midguard long after his mishap with the Avengers. Interacting with all of the Avengers. No slash, not really action-packed. Just a little fun fanfic. :)
1. Shadows & Shelves

Loki glared at the worn and frayed pages of the book his thumbed through, his loathing altogether misplaced. He summoned patience as the thud of another leather-bound book hitting the carpeted floor hummed in his ears. "Stop it," he ordered scathingly.

Thor glanced up from his browsing, wide-eyed and surprised. "Stop what, brother?"

Loki flinched as the next book hit the floor, briskly closing the distance between himself and his brother to seize his wrist in a vice-like hold. His fingers barely made it halfway around Thor's brutish hand. "Stop dropping the books," Loki hissed, glaring. "It's bad for their spines."

He turned back to his own book as Thor glanced down at the papery trail that followed him, bemused. "But the lady seems quite content-"

"She's cleaning up after you, Thor," Loki said dully, not even bothering to glance up this time. "And I can assure you that she's most displeased with how you're treating these books."

As he said it, the small plump little woman trotted down the aisle, her brow knitted over her half-moon glasses and pulled into a permanent scowl. She glared disapprovingly at Thor as she stooped to retrieve his discarded books, her red lips pursed unhappily. Loki hid a smile at Thor's apologetic expression as he sidled up to his brother, so out of place in this labyrinth of paper and leather.

Loki found his brother's lack of comfort oddly amusing, and somehow familiar. Back in Asgard, Thor had been stalked relentlessly through the Hall of Records and Royal Library, never able to stray too far from a librarian's condemning glower. He had earned a reputation for toppling bookshelves and unknowingly mistreating books, and so had stuck close to Loki's side to gain passage. For once, Thor had been cowering in Loki's shadow.

The God of Mischief pushed the thought aside with a disapproving hum, replacing the book he held and returning to surveying the shelf. Thor shifted uneasily beside him, looking ridiculously cramped between the huge shelves.

"Loki?" he asked tentatively, and Loki's brow lowered in mild irritation as he focused on selecting his book. "Are you nearly done?"

"If I was nearly done, brother," Loki responded, a hint of annoyance tinging his tone, "then you'd be proving your use holding my many miscellanies."

At Thor's somewhat lost expression, Loki sighed and dropped a heavy book into his fumbling hands. The God of Thunder regarded its cover curiously as Loki returned to browsing the shelves. "This is a dictionary, brother."

"Once again, your observations render me astounded, Thor," Loki responded with delicate sarcasm, selecting another two books in rapid succession. If Thor recognised the jab, he ignored it.

"These publications are very diverse, brother. What relation do they hold?"

"They don't Thor; I'm studying."

"Studying what?"

"Humanity." At Thor's concerned expression, Loki rolled his eyes. "Nothing nefarious, I assure you," he added on a sigh, depositing a few more books in Thor's upturned arms.

"Are you finished now, brother?"

Loki selected one last book, and turned to appraise his escort. Thor was sandwiched between the tight bookshelves, laden down with an excess of books. His casual attire did very little to hide him from the mortal's fascinated gazes as they peered around the aisles. "Follow me," Loki ordered, heading briskly for the front counter, his obedient handler close on his heels.


	2. French

Loki glanced up from the neatly printed text with a frown, ears piqued for the smallest hint of sound. His guest repeated his hesitant knocking once more, and Loki rose lithely to his feet, appraising the man at his front door with indifference.

"May I come in?" the soldier – Rogers, he corrected himself absently – queried, and Loki stepped aside, gesturing for the man to enter. He wore sensible attire, his collar perfected turned and each button sitting in its precise place on his chest. His apparel was immaculate, down to his polished shoes and his neatly combed hair.

His new handler surveyed the room with well-concealed surprise, his blue eyes flickering over the neatly arranged but sparse furniture, the cleaned surfaces. Loki preferred to watch his intruder.

"It's… very nice," he settled on finally, not wanting to seem impolite. His gaze fell to the assortment of books sprawled on the coffee table, and he gestured pointedly to them, hoping to break the awkward silence. "French, huh?"

"I have surrendered a large proportion of my time to learning a range of languages," Loki said diplomatically, unmoving from the door's shadow. It put the soldier on edge, and Loki enjoyed watching him squirm.

"Do you have a favourite?" Rogers attempted.

"No."

The soldier shifted uncomfortably, hooking his hands in his pockets. It made him look like a nervous child. "I'm here to-"

"You're here to invade my privacy and intrude on my premises, on the basis that you believe that I am harbouring deep-seated resentment towards you and your fellow mortals," Loki cut across brusquely, and the soldier's jaw set, but his expression was somewhat apologetic. "If you feel that uprooting my establishment will prove my innocence, then by all means impose."

The soldier released a heavily sigh, and circled the room slowly, ducking into the adjacent rooms. He returned a few minutes later, hands still in his pockets. "Everything seems to be fine. Someone will be sent next week-"

"Don't let it be Thor," he said lightly, more of a command than a request.

The soldier blinked once, his hand frozen in its path through his hair. "Excuse me?"

"I'd rather my property be inspected without my belongings being handled by my brute of a brother," Loki said airily.

"I'll see what can be done," Rogers said finally, and made swiftly for the exit. Loki closed the door behind him with a sharp flick of his wrist. Good riddance.

He returned to his seat curled up on the sofa, flicking inattentively through the heavy dictionary in his sure hands and absently wondering what he intended to do with his time tomorrow.

Coming up blank, his gaze rose to survey his dull quarters. The walls were a greying white, bare and bleak under his disparaging gaze. The apartment was small but adequate, sparsely furnished and left without decorations. It was as much his as the last resident's.

He'd have to fix that, he decided, chewing absently on his lower lip. Filled with a sense of finality and purpose, Loki returned resolutely to his book.


End file.
